WeedTreats started with toasted hemp hearts packed into resealable pouches for friends who wanted a calmer gift than the usual hamper. The kitchen is still in Salt River, the runs are still small, and the ingredient cards are still written in plain language with a batch date on every pouch.
Who we are
WeedTreats is a pantry label, not a gift-hamper factory. We pack hemp-seed and botanical snack boxes in a working kitchen in Salt River, buying toasted hemp hearts, rooibos leaf and dried fruit from growers we know by name. Runs are seasonal and short, which is why every pouch carries a batch date and a plain ingredient card instead of a marketing line.
The people we pack for are specific: someone carrying a box to a housewarming, an office manager saying thank you without a wine bottle, a household that keeps a shelf of calm snacks for slow Sundays. Some eat vegan, some avoid nuts, some just want less sugar. That is the reason the build-your-own option exists and why the monthly rotation only swaps two items at a time, so a box stays recognisable between deliveries.
How we talk about our food
No inflated claims, no vague wellness language. If a brittle is sweet, we say so. If a tisane is bitter at the end, the card says that too. Ingredient lists stay short and readable, and anything we cannot explain in a sentence does not go in the box.
WeedTreats started with a borrowed table, a tray of toasted hemp hearts and a stubborn idea: a gift box does not have to be loud to be worth giving. The story since then is mostly a series of small decisions about sourcing, portioning and how much we are willing to make in one go.
First runs
The first boxes were packed on a home kitchen counter in Salt River, using hemp hearts from a single Western Cape grower and whatever dates the market had that week. Nothing was scaled. We weighed every pouch by hand, wrote batch dates in pen, and gave most of the run away to friends who had just moved into new flats.
The brittle problem
Rooibos caramel brittle nearly ended the whole thing. In a wet Cape summer it refused to set, and in winter it snapped too hard and shattered in transit. We moved the brittle into its own inner pouch, adjusted how thin we pull the caramel, and stopped packing it on days when the kitchen felt like a steam room. That single fix changed how every box is assembled.
Plain language
Early feedback was blunt: people wanted to know what was in the pouch without squinting. So every item now carries a short card listing ingredients in ordinary words, the grower or supplier behind the main ingredient, and the batch date. If a substitution happens mid-run, the card is reprinted rather than corrected by hand.
Build your own
Too many hampers assume everyone eats the same way. The build-your-own option grew out of that gap, letting a box go vegan or nut-free without turning into a compromise. Some swaps shift the weight and balance of a box, and we say so upfront rather than quietly sending a lighter parcel.
Where it stands
Today the kitchen still works in short seasonal runs with a handful of Western Cape growers, and the monthly rotation swaps in two new items so regulars do not eat the same shelf twice. Housewarmings, long weekends and office thank-yous make up most of the orders. The scale has grown; the habit of dating every pouch by hand has not.